


When I feel Down (I Want You Above Me)

by Passionfruit (Appleskin)



Series: I Touch Myself [2]
Category: Static Shock
Genre: BDSM themes, Dom/sub Undertones, Dream Sex, Light Bondage, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Virgil is stressed and tired and just wants someone to take care of him, handjobs, poor baby, wet dreams, willfully oblivious Virgil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-19
Updated: 2017-07-19
Packaged: 2018-12-04 08:14:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11551152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Appleskin/pseuds/Passionfruit
Summary: Virgil does some unwinding of his own





	When I feel Down (I Want You Above Me)

Sometimes, Virgil can tell he’s dreaming. It doesn't happen a lot, really, but there are nights when it's just too weird or random to be real, or nights when he’s still just barely awake enough to notice  _ hey, that's not right. _

Tonight is one of those nights. He’s perched on the clock tower after patrol, looking over the city with Richie next to him. There's like a bazillion stars in the sky, way more than there actually is because of all the light pollution. But this is a dream, so the street lamps and window lights don't do anything to take away from all the stars. 

It’s hard to say exactly what it is that first tipped him off. Maybe it was the stars, maybe it’s the way the edges of his coat are singed even though he knows for a fact that he didn’t fight Hotstreak tonight. Maybe it’s the way everything seems hyper-vivid, like somebody put the whole world in a photoshop program and went over it all with a sharpen tool. 

Either way, Virgil is aware, on some level, that what’s going on around him isn’t real, so he doesn’t question the stars, or the way the street under them is completely dark and silent, or why Richie is sitting close enough to him for their thighs to press together. Virgil hasn’t turned to look at him yet, but he can feel the heat of Richie’s skin through the layers of both of their uniform pants, warming him from hip to knee.

It’s a pretty nice dream, actually, as far as dreams go. Peaceful. Nothing much happening, nothing much to look at. Just the stars, and the wind, and Richie, and the still, sleeping city below. Virgil relaxes into it, lets it run it’s course, and leans back to just enjoy the quiet of the evening.

They sit in silence for fleeting seconds, for long, drawn-out minutes, and the he feels Richie shift next to him, move like he’s stretching his arms up over his head, and of course he’s stiff, they’ve been perched on the clock tower for hours, so Virgil turns to say “Hey, you wanna head home?”

Richie must say yes, because they’re off then, off and flying with the stars rushing by on all sides like car headlights, and the wind pushing his dreads and his singed coat in every direction, and then they’re home but it’s the Gas Station instead. Of course, Virgil realises, they shouldn’t go home yet. Richie asked him to stop here first instead. 

So they duck inside the Gas Station, and Virgil sheds his boots and coat and is on the couch, sitting, waiting for Richie to tell him why they’re here. Richie doesn’t tell him though, instead he stands behind the couch, puts his hands on Virgil’s shoulders, rubs a little.

“You did good tonight, V.” He says, and it must be cold, Virgil thinks, because he shivers. “You did so well, you’re so brave, man.” 

He wants to ask what’s going on, what’s happening, because Richie doesn’t talk to him like this, doesn’t say things like that, but when he goes to turn around the hands on his shoulders stop him, and he’s pinned, he can’t move, sitting on the couch with Richie behind him. Richie tells him to stay still. He listens. 

“So good, V. You got everything right, you did just what you were supposed to.” Virgil doesn’t remember what happened tonight, but he thinks he must have done something really cool and heroic, must have saved somebody, for Richie to be telling him this. Maybe Richie came up with a really complex plan, and Virgil got his part right, and they saved the day again like that.

That must be what happened, because the hands on his shoulders dig in more, pressing at the knots there, and it feels so good even though it also kinda feels far away. 

“You listen so well.” Richie tells him, “You did everything I told you, you got it all just right. You did such a good job, V.”  
And Virgil… okay, he’s preening. He’s not used to being told stuff like this, not used to hearing that gentle, warm tone in Richie’s voice. It feels fucking nice, okay, the way Richie is praising him, giving him a damn back rub.

Part of him knows this isn’t real, and that’s maybe why he isn’t more confused or weirded out by it. Weird stuff happens in dreams, but this dream is a good one, so he lets it run it’s course.  
“I’m so proud of you, Virgil.” Richie says, and he must have moved closer because there’s warm breath on his neck now, even though his voice doesn’t sound any louder. “So proud, you’re so good. You deserve a reward.”

He thinks Richie probably means the back rub, because he hasn’t stopped massaging his shoulders, and Virgil has his tank top off now, to make it easier for him. It feels good, Richie’s hands are strong and rough from all the time he spends inventing nowadays, and he presses deep into the stiff, sore spots on Virgil’s back, leaves him feeling warm. He doesn’t know how long it lasts, it lasts forever, and Virgil feels all the sore spots leave, rubbed away by Richie’s hands. Richie stops talking for a while, but that’s okay. Virgil did good, he said so, and now he’s getting a killer backrub to prove it.

The silence starts to feel weird eventually, but Richie starts talking again right then, only Virgil can’t remember what he says. It makes him feel warm, though. Warm like Richie’s hands on his back make him feel. Warm like the breath tickling his neck and giving him goosebumps. Virgil lies down, because Richie told him to, and Richie’s weight is warm too, on his hips and butt, sitting on him while Richie keeps rubbing his back. 

Eventually there’s nowhere left to rub, no more knots or sore spots, and Virgil feels so warm he thinks he’s glowing. But Richie wants to give him something else, he says, because Virgil did such a good job. So Virgil rolls over, but Richie keeps sitting on him, and that’s okay, because Richie is warm and Virgil likes the feeling.

Richie must have gotten changed at some point, must have started keeping clothes at the Gas Station, because he isn’t wearing his Gear uniform. Instead he’s dressed like he’s going to bed, shirtless and wearing sweatpants that look like Virgil’s Static pants. That  _ are _ the Static pants, Virgil realizes when his legs start feeling cold. They fit Richie differently, because he’s a little bulkier than Virgil is, a little wider, stretching the pants tight across his thighs. Richie’s smiling a nice smile, and Virgil smiles back. 

“This is a nice dream.” He says, dazed.

Richie answers, “Yeah, it is.” And kisses him. His lips are warm and soft and gentle, and Virgil wants to wrap his arms around his neck but he can’t, he’s warm and relaxed and feels heavy, and it’s nice to just lie here while they kiss, just let Richie hold his shoulders for balance and lick at the seam of his lips.

They kiss for sluggish, drawn-out moments, and Richie doesn’t taste like anything, which is weird because of all the time he spends eating and oh, there it is, the pistachios he’d been munching as a snack while they were out patrolling. Virgil doesn’t really like pistachios, but he chases the flavor anyway, rubbing his tongue against Richie’s.

They kiss, and Virgil feels warmer, and he wants to tell Richie that he likes the way he looks in his clothes, that he wants to see him in just his tee shirt some time, like in the movies, but he can’t talk with Richie’s mouth in the way. He must manage to say it anyway, because Richie laughs, and of course he managed to say it, Richie’s mouth wasn’t in the way at all, it was on his neck, drawing slick, warm patterns over his skin with lips and tongue.

“Would have to be a big shirt.” Richie says, and bites his collar bones, and Virgil arches up. “If you wanna see it all baggy and hanging off me.”

It hurts, Richie’s teeth at his neck, his ears, leaving bruises and stinging bite marks, and it feels so good Virgil squirms. 

He still can’t move his arms though, not with Richie pinning him down, but Richie’s hands are still on his shoulders and oh, of course, Virgil’s wrists are suddenly caught in the chilly metal grip of a zap trap. They always were.

“So good for me, V.” Richie says, and bites him again, and spends a long minute working on a bruise dark enough to show up through his skin, and it makes him ache, knowing everyone will see that mark. “So good, so gorgeous, you work so hard. You do so well.”

Richie keeps talking like that, keeps making Virgil shiver and feel warm, keeps touching and kissing him, and he’s hard, and he realizes that Richie is, too, is hard in his Static pants, and that’s so hot he can barely fucking stand it.

“You deserve that reward I mentioned.” Richie says, and grinds down, and Virgil wants to arch up but he isn’t supposed to, that’s not what Richie told him to do, so instead he tries to stay still, tries to be good and take it. “Don’t you, Virgil? You worked hard for this.”

That was a question, and Virgil tries to answer it but instead Richie’s fingers slide into his mouth, and that’s, wow, holy shit that’s hot. Why is that so hot? He can’t talk in words, and when Richie’s fingers start to move slowly in and out of his mouth he whines. 

Richie’s other hand is down his pants suddenly, and Virgil sparks in surprise but doesn’t spark at Richie or singe the couch because of the metal zap trap cords around his arms, like grounding rods, they filter the electricity away and Virgil doesn’t hurt Richie, because this is a good dream. 

He’s jerking him off, and it’s exactly how Virgil likes it, tighter around the head, slow enough to really enjoy it, twisting his wrist around the base, and because it feels so good and because what else are you gonna do when someone’s fingers are in your mouth, Virgil wraps his lips around Richie’s fingers and starts to suck on them, a little clumsy. Richie makes a noise like that was the right thing to do, and for some reason that makes him feel warmer, makes him flush and squirm. He’s tied down and he’s sucking on his best friend’s fingers while being jerked off and this is the hottest thing that has ever happened to him. 

“It’s good, V, isn’t it? There you go, you just let me take care of this okay?” and he says “take care of this” but it feels like “take care of you” and for some reason that’s important, that matters, and Virgil’s skin feels ultra-sensitive and overheated and he wants Richie to keep touching him forever. Richie says “you’re my best friend, Virgil,” and “You’re so good, you’re so special,” and “I’ll take good care of you,” and keeps touching him just how he likes it, keeps fingerfucking his mouth, and everything is hazy-bright and warm and feels amazing.

It builds, pleasure coiling in his stomach, making him thrust up mindlessly into Richie’s hand, the grip slick and warm and tight. Virgil tries to warn him, but Richie hasn’t taken his fingers out of his mouth and anyway he must be able to tell, because he croons “You gonna cum V? Go on, let me make you cum,” and suddenly all of his limbs lock up like iron and, and it’s so good, so close, and he’s gonna--

Virgil wakes up with his limbs still tingling, post-orgasmic, and his boxers wet and sticky. He groans and, after a minute, rolls out of bed to peel the nasty cotton off. That was… a really weird dream. But he’s hazy and sleepy and it’s not like this is the first weird wet dream he’s had, he’s a teenage boy and stuff like that is normal. Hormones. Whatever. 

He feels off-center, disquieted, but there’s no reason to put any stock in weird dreams, right? No need to think about it too much. It didn’t mean anything. 

He cracks a window to cool down the room, feeling too hot, and climbs back into bed with a fresh pair of boxers on. Yeah, it didn’t mean anything. Hell, he probably won’t even remember it in the morning. That’s how most weird dreams work, right? Right.  
  
Just a weird ass dream. He’s probably stressed or something. He’ll tell Richie he needs to take it easy for a couple days, unwind. Already half-asleep again, his subconscious whispers _maybe he’ll help you with that_ , and Richie’s a bro, his best friend, so like.. He totally would. Help him. Gear would be more active to make up for Static slacking off, and Richie would help Virgil with his homework and, and, and maybe he would… like, tuck him in, kinda, to make sure he’s okay, right? If he’s taking time off of superheroing then that’s a big deal, so Richie would be worried, and he’d make sure Virgil was gonna get enough sleep and be comfortable and like, maybe he would get some water and something to eat from the kitchen, and watch to make sure he eats it all, and then he’d turn off the lights and stuff, and Virgil could… just relax.. Just let Richie… take… care of him...

**Author's Note:**

> Dammit Virgil you can't keep ignoring this. You're gonna have to face the facts sometime kiddo.
> 
> If you liked this, consider sending me a request on tumblr! http://thisisallthehattersfault.tumblr.com/


End file.
